She smoothed her palms over his chest, then leaned back, letting her hands travel down his stomach toward where his brains currently resided. His dick twitched, and he rocked upward against her. “Do you really want to do it here?”
She lifted a half-lidded gaze to his. “I really want to do it here. Oh. Provided you have protection. I didn’t even think about that. I mean, I usually don’t run around having sex in cars.”
He opened the center console and pulled out a condom.
She grinned. “Ever prepared, aren’t you?”
“I try to be.”
She took the condom from his hand and laid it down, then leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. Any conversation he’d wanted to have with her drifted away with the first taste of her mouth. He caught the scent of wine on her lips, but it was her flavor he was mainly interested in. More intoxicating than any alcohol, she drifted into his senses until he was lost. He dove his hand under her blouse so he could feel her skin.
She moaned against his lips when his hands moved up her back and found her bra. With practiced skill he undid the clasp, then traveled around to the front to slide his hand under the cup, finding her nipple.
Her breasts were small, but her nipples were sensitive, and he could tell she liked when he touched them, because her breath caught when he slid the pad of his thumb over one. The swell of her nipple against his thumb made his cock jerk against his zipper.
Tara drew back, her eyes already gone in that sexy way that seemed to turn them to amber glass.
She leaned back and shrugged out of her jacket, then began to unbutton her blouse. Silk seemed to fit her. She was classy, from the long column of her throat to the way her hair curled at the nape of her neck. She’d worn her hair up again, and he liked taking it down, pulling the clip out, and shaking the curls with his hand, transforming her from buttoned-up businesswoman to sex goddess before his eyes.
Her blouse unbuttoned, her bra opened, and he pulled it over her breasts.
“This is the way I like you,” he said, reaching for her breasts, sliding his fingers over her nipples. “All out of sorts. Your nipples hard, you rocking your * against my dick.”
She reached for her skirt and hiked it up over her thighs, revealing sexy pink panties that matched the satin bra. She let her hand drift down and palmed his cock. “This is the way I like you,” she said, her voice dark and breathless. “Hard and ready for me.”
She reached for his zipper and tugged it down, freeing his cock. They maneuvered so he could pull his slacks down over his hips. Tara grabbed the condom, taking a few seconds to stroke him, sliding her thumb over the crest, capturing the fluid that spilled there and licking her fingers after.
“Christ. You’re going to make me come before I get inside you if you keep teasing me.”
“Then let’s not tease anymore, because I need you to fuck me.”
She tore open the condom package and fit it over his shaft, then pulled her panties aside and straddled him. He watched his cock disappear inside her, holding her hips as she settled on him.
Now, that was a sight to make his balls tighten.
When she was fully seated on him, she dug her nails into his shoulders and focused on his eyes, her * pulsing around him. She didn’t move at all, just looked at him.
“Feel that?”
He nodded.
“Oh, God, Mick, that feels so good. I could stay here just like this and feel you inside me.”
He squeezed her flesh. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.”
He liked that she wasn’t in any hurry to show him her great prowess in the sack. Every woman that ever took him to bed seemed to want to impress him with how good they were, but there’d always been a remoteness about them, like fucking was a performance or an audition.
With Tara, she was in it with him, sharing it with him. He liked that she made eye contact with him. She wasn’t pleasuring just him; she pleasured herself, too. She dragged her clit against him and paused, her eyes drifting closed, her lips opening as she let out a low moan.
There was nothing that turned him on more than a woman out for her own pleasure. Because she wasn’t here trying to score points in her own game to land him. In fact, he was pretty damn sure that was the last thing on Tara’s mind.
She dug her nails into his arms and lifted, then slid down on him again, every slow inch an agony of sweet sensation. He didn’t know where to look—down at where they were joined or at her face, her ragged pleasure there for him to see.
He reached down and stroked her clit, felt how wet she was, knew this wasn’t a performance for her at all, knew it from the way her * squeezed his cock every time she moved, knew it from the way her eyes got hazy and her lids half closed, knew it from the sounds she made and the way the car smelled like sex. No, she was in it to win the game for herself, and he was part of the team.